


A Quiet Moment

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coda to The Clothes That Make the Man, Fluff, M/M, background Bruce/Rhodey, fluffy fluff, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> Behind them both, Bruce and Rhodey’s wedding celebrations were still in full swing, shouts and loud laughter dimming as the door slid shut.  At least half the guests were definitely drunk and finding increasingly creative ways of asking Thor -- who wasn’t drunk, but that hadn’t stopped him yet -- about his ‘hammer’.  Clint wasn’t going to begrudge everyone that, but he was going to seize this moment, because he wasn’t sure how long he and Phil were going to get before someone found them again. </em>
</p>
<p>Clint finds a quiet moment to propose to the man he loves.</p>
<p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1071159/chapters/2149673">The Clothes That Make the Man</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quiet Moment

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short, fluffy coda to [The Clothes That Make the Man](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1071159/chapters/2149673)
> 
> Because I couldn't just leave it without Clint getting his chance to propose :)

The breeze was cool as Clint stumbled out onto the rooftop just beyond the penthouse of Stark Tower.  Strong arms steadied him for a moment, before Phil’s warm hand curled around his.  “Careful,” Phil said quietly in Clint’s ear and Clint absolutely did not shiver as Phil’s lips brushed his cheek.  Nope.

Behind them both, Bruce and Rhodey’s wedding celebrations were still in full swing, shouts and loud laughter dimming as the door slid shut.  At least half the guests were definitely drunk and finding increasingly creative ways of asking Thor -- who wasn’t drunk, but that hadn’t stopped him yet -- about his ‘hammer’.  Just before Clint had found Phil and snuck outside for a little quiet, Clint had caught sight of Stark and Jane Foster arguing happily as they attempted to create something out of the remains of his microwave, and Nick, Steve and Pepper were having an epic poker showdown in the corner opposite the bar.  Clint had decided wisely that it was a bad idea if Phil saw any of that, which was why he’d promptly tugged Phil outside.

It was possible that Clint wasn’t completely sober either.

Besides, it was almost midnight and aside from a few dances, Clint hadn’t had Phil to himself all night.  Everyone had _finally_ finished demanded his and Phil’s attention for dances, toasts and conversations and Clint wasn’t angry at all the attention Phil was -- just a little grumpy maybe -- because everyone wanted to celebrate.  Clint wasn’t going to begrudge everyone that, but he _was_ going to seize this moment, because he wasn’t sure how long he and Phil were going to get before someone found them again.  Shivering slightly as the night air sank through the thin cotton of his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, Clint tugged Phil closer to the edge of the roof.  Stark had actually turned the corner of it into a little balcony area and Clint leaned against the railing a little as he gazed out over New York City.  He smiled when Phil shifted beside him, wrapping Clint in his strong arms as Clint sank into the embrace.

“So…” Clint said after a moment, resisting the urge to fidget.  Naturally, he couldn’t remember the speech he’d been rehearsing for the last week.

“So?” Phil prompted quietly, tightening his arms around Clint.

“You know I’m not so great with words, right?” Clint asked quietly, still watching the lights of the city.  “Not when it comes to the big, emotional things?”

He felt Phil’s hand slide soothingly up his spine.  “I think you do just fine, Clint,” Phil said.

Clint disagreed, but he was learning.  Back when they’d started their relationship neither Phil nor Clint had been much good at asking for what they actually wanted.  It had taken a few months for them both to settle into things and learn how to actually talk to each other.  Everything still wasn’t perfect, but Clint had never wanted perfect.  He had Phil and that was more than enough.  Turning, Clint glanced over and caught Phil’s amazingly blue eyes watching him.  “Just… don’t complain if this is less than eloquent, okay?” Clint muttered.

Letting out a shaky breath as a bolt of nerves swirled through his stomach, Clint fumbled with his vest pocket and cursed his suddenly clumsy fingers.  “Clint,” Phil said, his hand coming up to catch Clint’s chin when Clint looked away again.  “Is everything all right?”

As always, the gentle concern from Phil warmed Clint all over.  He flashed Phil a wry smile to let the other man know it wasn’t anything serious.  Well, in the deadly and ominous sense.  Clint was entirely, one hundred percent serious about spending the rest of his life with Phil.  Clearing his throat, Clint let out a slow breath.  “Phil, I’m trying to be suave and charming here,” he said.

Phil dropped his hand as the concern in his expression slid into amusement, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  “Sorry,” he said, fighting a smile.  “I won’t interrupt again.”

Clint nodded and let out another long breath.  This would be a lot easier if his palms would stop sweating.  “You know, I’m glad I didn’t choose the five-star restaurant for this,” he joked, trying to calm his thumping heart.

He could totally do this.  It was just a simple question.  Plus, Natasha would kill him if he chickened out now after all the times he practiced on her.

Phil frowned a little, his gaze searching Clint’s, but true to his word, he didn’t interrupt.  “Um, stay there for a moment, okay?” Clint told him.

Walking over to the small table between two chairs in the corner, Clint grabbed the two shot glasses and the long-stemmed red rose Natasha had left outside for him, because Natasha was awesome like that.  Stepping back up to Phil, Clint presented him with the rose and pretended not to notice how his hand was trembling.  Phil accepted the rose with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners again.  When Clint held out one of the two shot glasses and drew a small silver hip-flask out of his waistcoat, Phil arched an eyebrow.  “Did you steal that from Jasper again?” he asked.

Clint huffed.  “No,” he said, pouring vodka into Phil’s shot glass, before doing the same to his own.  “It’s the one he gave me after Budapest.”

Phil’s face clouded for a moment, before his eyes flew wide as he worked out where Clint was going with the alcohol.  Flashing Phil a slightly shaky smile, Clint tried to pretend his heart didn’t feel like it was lodged in his throat.  He could still remember Budapest -- the searing heat of the bullets whizzing past his arm as Clint had ducked for cover, the stitches across his stomach and ribs pulling tight and the burning pain stabbing through his thigh.

_“Shit, Barton, did you piss off the entire country?” Jasper snapped over the comms, tension clear in his voice._

_“Not the entire country,” Clint shot back, firing another arrow at his pursuers.  “However, Nat and I might have accidentally interrupted a Russian mafia wedding… and in the process of running for our lives, the best man might have… proposed to Natasha.”_

_There was a moment of absolute silence on the comms.  “So what did Agent Romanoff do?” Jasper said finally._

_“Drank three shots of vodka,” Natasha said, ghosting up beside Clint and taking out another gangster.  “Isn’t that what everyone does when a stranger proposes to them?”_

_Phil snorted, finally weighing into the conversation.  “That’s probably what I’d do if anyone ever proposed to me,” he agreed, before rattling off a series of extraction coordinates._

“You did say you’d need a shot of something strong if anyone asked you a certain question,” Clint said, blinking away the memory.

“You remembered that?” Phil said.

Throwing back his shot of vodka because he needed the jolt of liquid courage, Clint put the shot glass down on the railing beside him before taking a deep breath.  Dropping to one knee, Clint drew out the ring that had been burning a hole in his pocket.  Above him, Phil was still watching with wide eyes, his grip tight on the rose stem.  “Phillip James Coulson,” Clint said as levelly as he could as he held up the simple platinum ring he’d bought.  “I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  Will you marry me?”

Shoving his still-full shot glass onto the railing beside Clint’s empty one, Phil grabbed Clint by the wrist and tugged him to his feet.  “Yes,” Phil said.  “Yes!  I will definitely marry you.”

Relief coursed through Clint, the steel band around his lungs lifting enough for him to breathe.  Grinning with a happiness so bright and big it threatened to burst out of his chest, Clint surged forwards to pull Phil into a kiss.  He was still smiling when he pressed his lips to Phil’s a little clumsily, but Clint was too happy to care.  Phil had said yes!  He was going to be Clint’s husband.  Sliding his hand up to Clint’s jaw, Phil tilted his head slightly, slotting their mouths together properly and suddenly the kiss was all tongue and teeth and heat.  When Clint finally pulled back enough to breath, Clint’s hand was fisted around the edge of Phil’s waistcoat and Phil’s hand had tangled in his hair.  Laughing a little, Clint rested his forehead against Phil’s for a moment.  “You want to marry me,” he said in barely more than a whisper.

“Yes,” Phil said.  “Always.”

Leaning back and with a shaking hand, Clint carefully slid the ring onto Phil’s finger.  The metal gleamed in the light spilling out from the penthouse behind them, wrapped around Phil’s finger like it was supposed to belong there.  “Shit, Phil,” he said as Phil leaned in for another kiss.

There was another burst of sound as the access door opened, before familiar footsteps crossed the roof.  Phil and Clint pulled apart again, glancing over to watch Natasha walking towards them, flushed and smiling, a few wisps of her vibrant hair curling around her face.  “Well?” she demanded as soon as she was close enough.

“He said yes!” Clint told her, giddy.

Phil huffed, but he couldn’t seem to stop smiling either.  “Of course I said yes,” he muttered.

“Idiot,” Natasha said fondly, before she pulled first Clint and then Phil into a slightly awkward hug, rolling her eyes when neither man wanted to let go of the other.  “And congratulations.  To both of you,” she added.

“Thanks, Nat,” Clint said.

Natasha shrugged.  “I like weddings,” she admitted, before she fixed Clint with a pointed look.  “Also, Barton, I am not wearing purple.”

Clint was too happy to quibble.  They’d be plenty of time to talk Phil and Nat into a purple colour scheme for the wedding later, anyway.  “Okay,” he said.

Narrowing her eyes like she didn’t believe it would be that easy, Natasha studied him for a moment.  Then she turned to Phil.  “You should probably get JARVIS to let you out the back way,” she said.  “You can tell everyone else tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Phil asked, but his arm tightened around Clint’s waist.

Natasha gestured to the large penthouse windows.  Inside, chaos had clearly taken over.  Tony was now following Pepper around like a lost puppy, clearly unwilling to be more than three inches away from her, even as he exchanged increasingly rude gestures with Rhodey, who was still dancing with Bruce.  Thor was standing in the middle of the room, brandishing at least four bottles of various things and as Clint watched, Darcy Lewis yelled something and waved her arms.  Grabbing one of the bottles of rum from Thor, Darcy raced away through the crowd, one of Stark’s many robots following after her, a jaunty party hat on its head.  Fury and Steve were still in the corner, except now they had Steve’s shield between them and the rest of the room and Clint didn’t even want to know what was going on in the middle of the cluster of guests near the door to the kitchens.

“Yeah, the back stairs might be a good idea,” Clint said.

“Definitely,” Phil agreed.  “Besides, I have plans for the rest of tonight and they don’t involve Stark.”

Smirking, Clint turned to face him.  “Really?” he asked.  “And what plans would they be?”

“Mostly just going home with my new fiancé,” Phil said, leaning in to whisper into Clint’s ear.  “I’m pretty sure I can also be talked out of the suit.”

Clint shivered.  He wasn’t sure what was better -- Phil reminding him that they were going to get _married_ or that low, teasing voice that meant there were a lot of naked sexy-times in his immediate future.

“Ugh,” Natasha said, but her eyes were dancing.  “I’m going back to the party.”

“Okay.  Have fun,” Clint called after her, starting to pull Phil in the direction of the back stairs.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do and if you get Steve naked, you have to send pictures!”

Phil huffed.  “Do I want to know?”

“Nope,” Clint replied.  “All you need to worry about is me… and possibly how many speed limits you can break on the way home.”

Laughing, Phil crowded up behind him and turned Clint’s head to steal a kiss.  “I love you,” he whispered when he finally pulled back.

Clint let his eyes trace Phil’s beloved face for a moment, marvelling at how happy he was that Phil was not only in his life, but that he wanted to be Clint’s _husband_.  “I love you too,” Clint replied.

 

Fin.


End file.
